


Crescendo

by jichulets



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2014917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jichulets/pseuds/jichulets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs was a story of moments, of days and months and years and miles, of a love that became stronger and louder over time. Musicians AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> Maleval Week Day 7 entry. Prompt: AU

**Crescendo**

* * *

 

When Diaval Blanchard was 15, he was pushed into attending a distinctive high school. Castelmont, it was called, and it specialized in honing students in music and theater arts. It was where a lot of rich people sent their kids when they showed the slightest hint of creative talent, but for the poor sort, you had to get in based on sheer ability. He's been playing the cello for as long as he can remember, and his parents urged him to try for Castelmont. Diaval managed to impress the admissions panel enough to snag a scholarship, and there was no forcing his parents to allow him deference, so he sucked it up and started at the elite high school.

It was as terrible as he thought it would be, filled with the snobby, the stuck up and the arrogant. The curriculum in itself was designed to push students into excellence (but of course, unless you're the kid of someone extremely loaded, then you can get by with the barest improvements) so he didn't have complaints about that. Also, the orchestra was incredible and it's the only thing he's looked forward to in this place. But everything else was awful.

He auditioned for the orchestra, and to his surprise, the conductor decided to put him in Second Chair cello based on his skill and promise. However, when you're in as cutthroat a school as Castelmont, the students will ensure you don't rise without adversity. Diaval spent the rest of his time alone, because no one wanted to be friends with him. They called him names behind his back, and spread rumors as to how he easily got a high position in the orchestra. For his first few months he was completely miserable, but he had no one else to turn to. His parents would be devastated to hear how poorly he's coping, so he never told them what he's going through. The teachers never meddled in the students' personal affairs, and his peers simply don't care. He almost gave up, wanting to leave the orchestra desperately, when she found him.

Mallory Moor was two years his senior. Not only was she top of the class, she was also concertmaster of the orchestra, being the principal violinist. She was wildly popular in school in the sense that she was  _infamous_ , mostly for her insane talent, but he gathered she wasn't well-liked (still because of her talent, as she was leaps and bounds ahead of her peers, but also because of her no-nonsense attitude). Nevertheless, she had always been polite to him, and not once has she been condescending or patronizing, as some tended to treat the "freshies".

He was on the verge of quitting the orchestra when Mallory found him practicing after class, alone, one fateful day. Diaval was playing Bach's Suite No. 6 in D major when she chanced on him, and he didn't notice her listening until he got into the middle of the movement. However, she made him continue, so he played the entire thing with her as the sole audience. Afterwards, the only thing she said to him was, "If you want respect, you have to earn it."

He pondered on that piece of advice for days, wondering why it was so important for her to relay it to him. Diaval resolutely decided to stay in the orchestra, if only to figure out the enigma that was Mallory Moor's advice, and he spent the rest of freshman year continuing to improve his craft until gradually, the rumors and nasty gossip about him stopped, replaced with a grudging acceptance. The people in the cello section were the first to admit he was good enough to be Second Chair, and eventually everyone in the orchestra made peace with the decision. Concerts and performances rolled in, and every single time the conductor acknowledges his performance backstage, Mallory glanced at him with something akin to pride.

It was only after freshman year that he found out Mallory was once just like him, scorned for her talent, until she shoved everyone's consternation back in their faces and forced them to see her as she is- someone out of their league.

* * *

Sophomore year was infinitely better than first year. Diaval finally has people he can hang out with after school, and his classmates have become much warmer to him due to his growing reputation. Still, he hasn't neglected his rehearsals, and more often than not he stayed after class and orchestra practice to play alone. He kept on doing this until one day, Mallory Moor simply dropped in and asked him if he was willing to play Ravel's Sonata for Violin and Cello. He acquiesced, and it was quite possibly one of the most magical moments in his life, two sounds merging into one to make musical symbols on paper come to life.

They played together every afternoon from that point on.

* * *

They never talk during the times they play together, except to exchange ideas on what piece they should do next. Diaval has contemplated on more than one occasion to at least say "thank you", and the urge hit him harder as her graduation approached. However, he stayed silent, afraid that he might send her away if he tried to initiate a conversation, if he tried to get something more than what they have now.

The last time they played together was the day before her graduation, and Diaval wanted nothing more than to prolong that moment, that instant when she was all that he had and he was all that existed in her world, but their time came to a halt like all the other times before.

They chose Beethoven for their last time, finally agreeing on something instead of forcing one's preference on the other. Diaval felt like this last time went by faster than all those previous sessions, and he hated every second of it. After the last notes resonate within the room they were in, and after they've put down their bows, all he could do was stare at her. Diaval wanted to talk to her, to say goodbye, to say  _I hope you don't forget about me_ , but all he did was stare. It was Mallory who had the courage to break the year-long trance they were in.

"So… I guess this is goodbye." Mallory said, putting her violin back in its case.

Startled, Diaval could only nod in reply.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I enjoyed playing with you."

Diaval shook his head, flustered. "The pleasure is all mine. You, uh, play well." He cringes at the inanity of his words. She chuckled, thankfully finding him amusing instead of stupid.

"I should hope so." She extended a hand to him. "Good luck, Diaval."

He clasped her hand. "You too. And congrats. On graduating, I mean."

Her close-lipped smile grew wider. "Thanks."

Diaval debated whether to stop her or let her go, and it was only when she made it to the door that he decided he's got nothing to lose, anyway, since this was probably the last time he will see her.

"Mallory, wait."

She turned around, hand on the door handle.

He jogged over to where she is, bag slung on his shoulder. "I uh, I have something for you." He mumbled, rifling through his backpack and pulling out an envelope. Nervously, he handed it to her.

Curious, she moved to open it, but he stopped her.

"Open it later when I'm not around. It's just a graduation present, nothing grand about it. Just my way of saying thank you." He bounced on the balls of his feet, jumpy from anxiety and embarrassment. He watched as Mallory slipped the envelope inside her bag.

An unreadable expression crossed her face, but before Diaval could interpret it, the expression was gone, replaced with a softer version of her polite demeanor. "Thank you, Diaval. I hope for all the best for you." Mallory whispered, leaving this room they've shared for a year behind, one last time.

* * *

The next time Diaval saw her was half a year after her graduation. He was performing in the school's Winter Ball not only as part of an orchestra, but as a soloist for the first time. That honor was granted to the person who, according to the conductor, showed the most improvement and skill. For his junior year, he finally managed to get the coveted First Chair spot in the cello section, and so he was chosen for this year's Winter Ball solo performance.

A lot of alumni go back to watch the concert, but it was almost a rule that graduates wait at least 5 years before going back, just to avoid being labeled as homesick wash-ups. That is why he almost fumbled when he noticed Mallory in the very back of the audience, intent eyes watching him. Fortunately, he gathered his wits enough to not commit a mistake, and he delivered his Winter solo piece flawlessly, eliciting a standing ovation from the audience. Mallory stood clapping along with everybody else, and he realized that her approval meant more to him that everybody else's.

* * *

Diaval graduated high school, unfortunately only as class salutatorian, but he still got into the tertiary school of his dreams- Juilliard. This was his sole motivation for the longest time, the biggest reason why he agreed to endure Castelmont in the first place.

The intense competition of Castelmont is multiplied a hundred times in Juilliard, but the environment was also a hundred times better, and Diaval is happier. He's making a lot of friends and he's doing great so far. Still, the first thing he did at Juilliard was to seek out Mallory, now a third-year violin major. Despite the years and the changes, it was so easy to fall into the same routine, of suites and sonatas and minuets performed with each other and for each other. He told himself that he developed a firmer friendship with Mallory because this is his way of remembering where he came from, a way of acknowledging his roots, but that is only part of the reason. It's true that being around her prevented him from being too carried away by this new life, but he stuck with her mostly because he wanted to, simple as that.

* * *

Diaval has always thought that doing something repetitively makes it easier, but apparently that rule doesn't apply with goodbyes. The day of Mallory's graduation arrived like a thief in the night, and he found himself, for the second time, bracing himself for her departure. As a nod to their first parting, they decide to play Beethoven again. A sense of déjà vu washes over him as they wait for the final notes to die down.

Just like that time years ago, she was putting her violin back in its case when she broke the silence between them. "I guess this is goodbye… yet again."

Gripping the neck of his cello tightly, he replied, "Yeah, I suppose so."

Mallory caught the look in his face and chuckled lightly. "You look so miserable."

Diaval stood up, returning the chair he used to its proper place, scowling. "I'm glad you find my misery funny."

Mallory slowly walked up to him, and with a hand on his shoulder, peered at him. "If you miss me too much, you can always text me, you know. We can even skype if you like."

"You won't reject my calls?"  _Such neediness, Diaval_ , he scolded himself.

Arms crossed, she stared at him with a raised brow. "Have I ever rejected any of your calls before?"

Diaval threw her a sheepish smile, but a pensive expression forced its way through. "It's not the same as having you here", he mumbled.

With a sad smile, Mallory said, "True. I'm going to miss playing with you the most. After all, you're the best cellist I've ever met." There was no compliment in her statement, only fact. "What about you?"

Deciding to give her honesty as his parting gift, he said, "Everything.  _You_. I'm going to miss you the most."

Mallory bit her lower lip, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. Still, her face softened at his words, and she reached out to gently touch his cheek.

"I'm going to miss you too."

He covered her hand with his own, holding it to his cheek a little longer than what was appropriate.

When he finally dropped her hand, the softness of her features was replaced with confidence. "If you miss me, you know where to find me."

"Where?"

Mallory grabs her violin case, slings her bag on her shoulder, and turned to him when she was at the door. Cockily, she declared, "At the top."

His own hearty laughter was the last thing that echoed through the room that night.

* * *

For his last two years of college, the only contact Diaval has with Mallory was of the electronic kind- texts, calls, skype chats, e-mails. For two years, he never saw her in person, because she was busy traveling with the New York Philharmonic. Still they kept in contact, and he refused to let their communication peter out, always reaching out whenever they were on the verge of losing themselves to their work.

For two years, Diaval had to content himself with her virtual presence, even if it was far from being enough. Unlike his first Winter Ball solo, Mallory couldn't come see him perform for his final Juilliard recital. He scanned the crowd fastidiously, but there was no sign of her, and he had to admit it left him immensely disappointed. She offered her sincerest apologies the next time they talked, but the simple truth was that he missed her, and maybe it was a big mistake to grow so attached to her, but he already had and there was no way out of it.

* * *

A slight reprieve from the separation was afforded to him by his graduation. Mallory promised this was something she was never going to miss, but he knew that sometimes, something comes up in the job and you can't forego it, so he didn't have high hopes. But when he saw Mallory in the crowd whilst he was delivering the commencement address, the longing hit him particularly hard and he almost jumps down to get to her. Still, he forced himself to be patient a little while longer.

However, after the ceremonies, there was no stopping him from running to her and scooping her up in his arms. He keeps her in his embrace for a long while, and even when he lets go he doesn't stray too far. She was like rain and he was like dry soil, and he's going to receive what he can before the water goes away again.

* * *

Eventually, though, they had to go back to their own lives- him, pursuing a masters degree while being a junior instructor; her, traveling with one of the most prestigious and oldest orchestras in the world.

They still keep in contact, and it is then that Diaval realized that Mallory has easily become the most important person in his life, and he maintained the hope that he was indispensable to her as well.

His hopes were proven true in the most horrible way possible- through a phone call telling him Mallory was desperately asking for him, from a hospital bed, injured and broken.

* * *

It was a car accident, Mallory narrated to him, a head-on collision caused by someone driving under the influence. Fortunately, she was brought to the hospital on time. The other driver wasn't as lucky (although, Diaval argued, the bastard deserved to die anyway). Mallory was alive, but it didn't mean that she was okay. The accident left her motor functions impaired- more specifically, her fine motor skills. To a musician, that meant the end- the end of your career, the end of life as you know it.

* * *

Diaval realized that he didn't want to be with her in the flesh, if it meant being with her like she is now- lost and despairing. He would have given anything and everything for her to be happy again. But music was her world, and without it, she didn't know what to do. It was like losing her identity.

She was undergoing physical therapy, but for the longest time it didn't seem to be working. After every session, she picks up her violin and tries to play again, and every time she fumbles or her fingers refuse to move the way they used to, Diaval witnessed the light leave her eyes.

Still, Diaval stayed. He filed a leave of absence to Juilliard and took a temporary job teaching music to locals, mostly kids. He was there for all her physical therapy sessions. He was there to hold her for all the times she cried, all the times she hated herself and hated the world for taking away the thing that mattered to her the most. He was there the rare times she smiled, because she was making progress and there was hope for healing, both of her body and her soul.

He knew Mallory was thankful, despite not saying anything. Still, her looks of gratefulness were interspersed between looks of confusion, and one day she found herself asking, "Why are you doing this?"

He feigned ignorance, but she pressed on. "You should be in Juilliard. You have a life there. Why are you still here?"

Shrugging, he simply said, "Because."

"Because what?"

He didn't respond, so she reiterated "Why, Diaval?"

"Because you're family, okay? You're family, and I love you, and- and you were the first person who believed in me, so I figured… this is just me believing in you."

For the first time, he is the one locked in her embrace, instead of the other way around. Then again, even from the beginning, she's always been the one who had an inexplicable hold on him. This was simply her finally realizing it.

* * *

If there was ever a person who could defeat anything life throws her way, it was Mallory. After almost two years of rehabilitation and training, she was back and ready to return to being one of the world's most promising violinists of their age. Truth be told, Diaval would have been perfectly content with a low-key life, teaching kids and starting a family back in his hometown. However, Mallory Moor was not someone you could keep in anonymity. She was born to shine, born to receive the world's accolades and praises. Even her comeback was a big deal- Juilliard was hosting a concert featuring Mallory as the special guest.

"I'm supposed to perform three solos that night." Mallory told him, referring to the Julliard concert.

"However, I asked if I could perform a duet with someone in place of one solo. They agreed." Meaningfully, she looked at him, and Diaval immediately understood what she's trying to say.

"I… you want to perform with me?"

Mallory nodded. "I already have a piece in mind." She handed him sheet music- old, creased, and brown at the edges. In complete disbelief, Diaval scanned the pages, recognizing his own penmanship.

It was the aubade he wrote, his first completed composition, a violin-cello duet that was Mallory's high school graduation gift.

Diaval has never asked her about it, and she's never mentioned it before, so he assumed that it had been forgotten.

Apparently it was the farthest thing from forgotten. She's kept it all these years, waiting for the perfect moment to bring it to life through their combined talent and passion.

With an affectionate smile and a melodious voice, Mallory stated, "It's time we told the world about us, don't you think?"

Thinking of all those years- of music trapped in closed rooms, of texts and calls and e-mails, of tears and weaknesses and vulnerabilities, of laughter and hope and longings fulfilled shared only between the two of them- Diaval pulled Mallory closer, finally melding his lips with hers, letting themselves be intimately connected the way their music already had.

* * *

Despite his misgivings, Diaval didn't contradict Mallory's decision to travel once more with the New York Philharmonic. She was away on tours for months on end, while Diaval settled for a more sedentary career as assistant professor at Juilliard. For a couple more years, they went back to seeing each other only during the months Mallory was allowed to come back and communicating mainly via other means.

All the pain and yearning and misery were erased, however, when out of the blue Mallory just knocks on his office door and with just two words, promised him she'd stay, this time for good.

"I'm home", she said.

Staring into her eyes, Diaval knew that he was, too.

* * *


End file.
